


if you were church

by soyicedcoffee



Series: calm me down [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Hair-pulling, Kneeling, M/M, Pining, Platonic BDSM, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyicedcoffee/pseuds/soyicedcoffee
Summary: things get intense, and shane and ryan explore the boundaries of their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

From then on, Ryan just comes over to Shane’s whenever he wants to. This setup works particularly well because Shane doesn’t really go out - if he does, it’s usually a work thing so Ryan and him are together anyway.

One time he’s not home when Ryan comes over, because he’s on a date with a girl named Emily who he’d met at the Starbucks down the street from his apartment. She has short black hair and sharp, intelligent green eyes. She's serious and only laughs about half of his jokes, which he finds both nerve-wracking and strangely charming.

He receives the text from Ryan just as they’re finishing up dinner.

Ryan: Missed you at your apartment just now.

Shane: Sorry, just out. I’ll be home in 15.

A part of him sparks in anger that Ryan expected him to be home and conveniently available for him 24/7.  _ But that’s just what you’re doing, isn’t it?  _ He asks himself, as he tells his date he has a family emergency, gets the bill, and rushes home. He has to remind himself to feel bad for lying.

He hadn’t been sure if Ryan would be there when he got home, but he is, sitting on the floor outside the door to his apartment. When Ryan sees him approaching he smiles broadly, rising to his feet. 

“You didn’t have to rush home,” he says through his smile. Shane wants to feel bitter - about Ryan’s text, about the hold he has on him - but the logical part of his brain tells him that Ryan isn’t making him do anything. He did this all on his own.

He thought,  _ I should get Ryan a key,  _ then thinks  _ no, that would be ridiculous,  _ then,  _ but you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?  _

He was.

He also thinks that he probably won’t go on anymore dates for now. Every date he’s been on since being with Ryan has been accompanied by an increasing looming feeling of guilt and discomfort. He couldn’t parse whether he felt like he was betraying Ryan, or if he felt like he was being dishonest with the people he was going out with. 

If he were being honest with himself - something he’d been avoiding as much as possible lately - he’d probably come to the conclusion that the culprit was mostly his dedication to Ryan. This conclusion would make him frown, because there was no reason for him to feel that way. 

Him and Ryan certainly weren’t exclusive… whatever they were, and he knew for a fact that Ryan wasn’t turning down dates on his account. They weren’t even romantically involved in the slightest. They just had a bizarre, symbiotic relationship in which they both got what they wanted. What Ryan seemed to need. And luckily they were both tremendously well adjusted humans, and if either of them wanted something more out of the set up, they’d readily go to the other and let them know with haste.

All that being said, there had been a change in their relationship lately that had probably contributed to Shane’s stopping dating, a certain ramping up of tension and intimacy that left Shane breathless and weak. It was in the way Ryan looked at him, the way he bit his lip, the way Shane always felt like he was holding back when he touched him. Like with one slip he could go further. He wondered if Ryan even noticed the change, or if he was too far under when they were together like this.

He didn’t know which one he hoped was true.

That was certainly the case tonight as he let them into his apartment, unlocking the door with an unsteady hand. Ryan follows in after him, hands shoved in his pockets awkwardly. He’s always awkward when they start off, even though they’ve probably done more than 20 scenes by now. 

“Where were you?” asks Ryan as Shane slips off his jacket and hangs it up.

“I was on a date,” says Shane.

“Oh,” says Ryan, scratching the back of his head. “You didn’t leave for me, did you?”

“No,” Shane lies smoothly, “we were just finishing up.”

“Oh, good,” Ryan smiles, sounding relieved. He doesn’t seem upset, like he sometimes does when he comes over. A little anxious, maybe, that’s all. 

Shane’s heart clenches. Ryan’s so sweet, and clearly isn’t trying to ruin his love life.

“What do you want to do?” The question sounds casual, like the answer might be order a pizza or what Netflix. Shane can tell from how Ryan’s acting that that’s not the answer.

Ryan shrugs, biting his lip.

“Hmm,” Shane hums, running through the list of things they could do in his mind. He has a whole notebook stored away in his bedside table, with pages and pages of notes, both research he’s done and things Ryan and him have discussed. Things Ryan wants, things he doesn’t want, things he wants to try. 

“Do you need me to be nice to you?” asks Shane.

Ryan shakes his head, and Shane grins slowly. The thing is, Shane is a nice person. Gentle giant, wouldn’t hurt a fly, all that. He’s never even been tempted to hurt someone, or be rough or harsh. But once Ryan said he could, that he wanted him to… Shane fell easily into that role. He loves taking care of Ryan, being sweet and bossing him around and just being in control. But he loves this just as much. Sometimes he loves it more.

Shane approaches him, getting close enough that he could touch him, if he wanted. Close enough that Ryan has to look up at him. 

“What’s your safe word?” Shane says, voice hoarse. He sees Ryan swallow.   
  


“Red,” says Ryan.

“Good. If you need anything, you can just ask, okay?” Ryan nods eagerly, impatiently.

Shane runs a hand through Ryan’s soft hair and tugs hard. He groans as his head tilts back, revealing his neck.  _ You could kiss him,  _ chants a voice in the back of Shane’s head,  _ you could bite him hard right there.  _ He allows himself a moment to imagine it, exactly what that would be like. What it would taste like, the salt of his skin. How Ryan would react.

Instead he tightens his hand in Ryan’s hair. “You’re going to kneel for me,” he says, making his voice hard and commanding. He nods as much as he can with Shane’s grip in his hair. Shane releases him, and Ryan melts against him. 

“Take off your shoes,” Shane says, and he leaves Ryan standing in the hall, untying his laces. Shane goes to his bedroom and grabs the book he’s reading from his bedside table. When he emerges, Ryan is standing in the same place in the hallway, now in his socks. Shane goes straight to the couch and sits down.

“Well? Come here,” Shane says, like it was obvious, which it wasn’t, but he relishes the way that Ryan’s cheeks darken as he blushes.

“Do you need a pillow?” Shane says as Ryan approaches in his socked feet. He shakes his head. “Okay, kneel then. Facing away from me.” Shane orders, gesturing to the floor by his feet, and Ryan drops to his knees obediently.

“For how long?” says Ryan, straining his neck to look back at Shane from his knees. Shane raises an eyebrow at him, and Ryan immediately looks chastened.

“For as long as I want,” Shane says, and with that he settles into the couch, opening his book to the place he left off. He leaves the bookmark, though, knowing that he’s going to have to read it all again. Though he’s feigning disinterest, all his attention is on Ryan, whose head is leaning against the couch beside his knee. Shane realizes he could pull Ryan’s head head to rest on his knee so easily, and in a moment of boldness or weakness he does, gently maneuvering Ryan’s head with a hand in his hair. Ryan sighs, leaning into Shane’s touch, and Shane feels his heart skip beats. He doesn’t move his hand away, instead letting it card through Ryan’s hair soothingly, scratching at his scalp.

Sitting there with Ryan kneeling at his feet, the anxieties of Shane’s day melt away, lulled by Ryan’s rhythmic breathing. Before he knows it, Shane sees an hour has passed and Ryan is shifting uncomfortably on his knees. He realizes he’s flipped through 50 pages of his book without reading a word.

He snaps his book shut, and Ryan startles at the noise, looking up at Shane. He looks drowsy and flushed.

“Time to get up,” Shane says. Ryan immediately starts to stand, and Shane moves to stop him, holding him down gently with a hand on his shoulder.

“Careful,” says Shane, and Ryan blushes darker, sinking back to his knees. “You were down there for an hour, Ry. You okay?” Shane stands and slowly helps Ryan to his feet.

“Yeah,” Ryan says through a wince. 

“You kneeled very nicely for me,” Shane murmurs. Ryan looks down, a shy smile on his face. Shane distantly registers how fucking adorable Ryan is, and how his eyelashes fan out on his cheeks,  _ good lord, focus, Shane.  _ He grabs Ryan by the chin hard, forcing him to look up at him. Ryan flinches, and Shane has to remind himself that Ryan wants this, that they’ve talked about this, and that he can safeword out at any time. 

“What do you say?” Shane says. 

Ryan hesitates, searching Shane’s face for what the answer might be. His eyes light up. “Uh, thank you?”

“Thank you…?” Shane raises his eyebrows expectantly, stroking a thumb roughly over the stubble on Ryan’s cheek.

Ryan swallows audibly. “Thank you, sir.” Shane feels a slow smile spread across his face. He tries to ignore the curl of warmth in his stomach, and he silently wills himself not to get hard at that.  _ Sir.  _ It’s something he never thought would work for him, but every time Ryan says it Shane feels all of the blood instantly rush away from his brain. 

Shane moves his hand so his thumb is in Ryan’s mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth, gripping his lower jaw with his fingers pressing under his chin. Ryan draws a surprised breath.

“Good boy,” Shane says appreciatively, and Ryan… Ryan makes this sound, keening and desperate, and his tongue darts out and brushes against Shane’s thumb, and it suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Intimacy crackles between them, warm and dizzying. Before he knows what he’s doing, Shane has dropped Ryan’s face and taken a large step back.

They both just stand there for a moment, breathing heavily. Ryan is flushed all the way down his neck, and his hair is hopelessly mussed. He looks… Well, he looks as if he’s just been thoroughly fucked, if Shane is being honest - but maybe that’s just where his head is at right now. The look on his face is one of shock, and Shane guesses his is probably the same.

“Red,” says Shane, ending the scene. Ryan nods in assent.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says breathlessly, “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Ryan shakes his head. “I should just go,” he says. He looks around the room helplessly, as if he doesn’t even know what his next step should be.

Shane sighs. “Do you honestly think I’m just going to let you go like this? With no aftercare or anything? Don’t you think that would be irresponsible?” In times of stress, Shane’s mother taught him to turn to the practicalities of a situation, and he stands by that method 100%. When someone dies, you make a big batch of tea and sandwiches. And when your platonic BDSM partnership with your best friend becomes too intimate, you… make a big batch of tea and sandwiches.

Ryan looks hesitant for a moment. “I guess so,” he allows.

“Well, how about I go make us some tea, and then we can watch a movie or something. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go put on something comfortable?” Shane gestures to Ryan’s jeans. “There are sweatpants in my top drawer, if you want.” He’s very careful to suggest, not tell Ryan what to do.

Ryan retreats to Shane’s room, and Shane goes to the kitchen and turns the kettle on. After a quick assessment of the ingredients readily available, he makes two peanut butter and jam sandwiches on white bread and two cups of tea, one with sugar (for Ryan) and one with milk (for himself). Quite pleased with his handiwork, he returns to the living room, carefully balancing the plates and mugs.

Ryan’s sitting cross legged on the couch in a pair of Shane’s sweatpants. Shane sets everything on the coffee table. “You hungry?”

“Yeah. I’m starving, actually,” Ryan says, pulling his plate towards him. Shane smiles.

“You always are. After a scene.”

Ryan’s brow furrows. “Am I?”

“Well, maybe you’re just always hungry. Must be tiring, with all those crazy theories running through your head all day.”

Ryan snorts.

“Or maybe it’s all the ghostly energies? Are you sensing a presence in my apartment right now?”

“Fuck off,” says Ryan grumpily, but he’s smiling around his PB&J.

Ryan looks so comfortable sitting there in Shane’s too-long-for-him sweats, and Shane realizes he’s still in the outfit he wore out to dinner. He excuses himself to change, and returns in sweats and a t-shirt. When he finally gets back and sits down on the couch, Ryan has demolished his sandwich and is sipping his tea gingerly. It’s still steaming hot, and Shane resists the urge to tell Ryan to let it cool down.

“Do you want my sandwich?” Shane asks, holding his plate out to Ryan.

“Oh, no, I’m okay.”

“I’m actually not that hungry,” Shane lies. Oh, the things we do for the people we lo… people we really like. Well, people we like the regular, expected amount, given the situation.

Ryan takes the sandwich from Shane gratefully, inhaling it just like the first.

They choose something to watch - some baking competition show that won’t require too much attention - and settle in with their tea.

Ryan keeps his distance, which is unusual for him. In Shane’s notebook, there’s a whole three pages about aftercare, and one note in obtrusive capital letters about the importance of cuddling.

“Do I smell bad or something?” Shane jokes, keeping his tone light, even if he is feeling a little bit hurt. But just a little.

“No worse than usual,” Ryan grumbles.

“Do you not want to…” Shane trails off, awkwardly gesturing to the space under his arm where it’s resting on the back of the couch.

Ryan hesitates for a second, but scooches closer to Shane, cuddling against his side. Shane breathes a sigh of relief that he hopes isn’t too obvious.

They watch quietly for a while, as the contestants attempt to make a full sized cake in the likeness of Napoleon Bonaparte in a matter of hours.

“Shane?” says Ryan.

“Hm?” He’s more involved in the show than he thought he’d be, and it takes him a second to tear his attention away from the mess on the screen.  _ Even  _ I _ could do a better job than that. _

“Shane,” Ryan says, more insistently this time.

“Sorry, Ry, what’s up?” Shane pauses the show, turning to face Ryan - as much as he can with Ryan’s head wedged against his shoulder.

“I’m really sorry that I made things weird. I was just totally out of it and got carried away.” He gnaws at his lower lip anxiously.

“What?” Shane asks, taken aback. “Ryan, no. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be sorry, for my reaction. You just surprised me, is all.”

“I mean, things got kind of intense.”

“Yeah,” Shane says. “Was it too much? Before I bailed?”

Ryan hesitates, thinking for a moment. “I think if we can’t handle things getting intense, we shouldn’t do this. But as long as we know our boundaries…”

Shane nods. “Yeah, I agree. Is there anything you don’t want to do again that we did tonight?”

“I don’t think so. Everything was good for me.”

“I wasn’t too mean to you?” Shane asks, and he hears the guilt creeping into his voice.

Ryan laughs at this, a full belly laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. “Dude, you are the gentlest dom ever.”

“What!” Shane squawks in protest. “I was very demanding! I pulled your hair!”

“Oh, all right. Yes, you were terribly cruel,” Ryan says sarcastically. “I hope you’ll be more gentle with me next time, sir,” he drawls.

Shane chokes on his tea.

“Jesus, Shane, are you okay?” Ryan asks, patting his back sympathetically as he coughs up a lung.

“Oh, yeah,” Shane chokes out. “Just went down the wrong pipe, I think.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Ryan is the king of bad ideas.

Bad ideas like: quitting a steady job to pursue a career in media, exploring haunted houses, attempting to communicate with demons, and getting himself into a weird kinky relationship with his co-worker/friend.

This new bad idea was… well, _bad._ Inadvisable. Questionable. If Ryan were to consult anyone about this idea, he suspects that the going advice would be a resolute _absolutely not under any circumstances should you do this Ryan Bergara._

Which is why he’s not going to consult anyone. Not that he really has anyone to consult about this kind of thing, anyway.

Anyway, as far as bad ideas go, Ryan’s generally turn out to not be such bad ideas after all. Just ask his media career largely owing to his penchant for exploring haunted houses and attempting to communicate with demons.

He knows he won’t be able to ask stone cold sober. Ryan’s brave, but this feels too much like putting his heart on the line.

So he waits until they all go out, a bunch of people from work and Shane and him. It’s been a few weeks since the night that Shane safe worded, and they haven’t done anything since then.

The closest they’ve gotten – earlier that day. Shane had come up behind where Ryan was sitting at his desk and slid a hand onto his shoulder. His fingers found their way to the nape of Ryan’s neck, thumb tracing the slope of his shoulder. Ryan shuddered, disguising it as a startle response. _You coming out tonight?_ Shane had asked, and Ryan could only nod mutely in response. Shane slumped into his desk chair, smiling. _Awesome._

(If you want the truth – Ryan hadn’t known what the hell Shane was talking about. But he knew if Shane was going out, so was he.)

Ryan couldn’t shake that feeling of Shane’s fingers on the back of his neck, fingertips grazing the short hairs on his nape. It was a gesture that could have been casual but came off as possessive. He could tell that Shane felt it too, from the slight flush colouring his pale skin, and the way he avoided Ryan’s eyes for the next hour as they worked side by side. It made him wonder, not for the first time, if Shane craved their connection like Ryan did. If he missed it when they weren’t together.

-

The bar is warm, the music is loud, and Ryan is on his fourth drink. Fourth drink Ryan is the perfect amount of drunk – lucid but willing and ready to say exactly what he’s thinking.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Shane is leaning against the wall, empty glass held close to his body. The condensation is dampening his light blue button up shirt, turning the fabric dark.

“What?” says Shane, leaning in closer.

“Do you want to have sex?” Ryan repeats, louder this time.

Shane’s eyes widen, and he looks around as if someone might have heard Ryan over the pounding bass. “What?” He says again, and Ryan resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows Shane heard him that time. “Like, now?” He asks, looking bewildered.

“No,” says Ryan. But his eyes drift to Shane’s jaw, his long fingers gripping his empty glass, and he’s not sure he shouldn’t have said yes. “Ugh, I mean-“ Ryan stumbles over his words. He takes another sip of his rum and coke and tries again. “I mean when we… You know.”

“Ah,” says Shane, tapping the side of his nose knowingly as he leans back against the wall, away from Ryan. It seems like such an old-fashioned gesture and Ryan laughs. Shane smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Something about the tight look on Shane’s face shakes Ryan’s confidence. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Shane shakes his head, and his downturned eyes are all big and sad in a way that makes Ryan’s heart lurch. His eyes dart away, fixed on some point across the bar.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Ryan leans in close so Shane can hear him – possibly too close, as fourth drink Ryan doesn’t have a very good track record when it comes to personal space, “I just-“

“I’m not freaked out,” interrupts Shane, but Ryan can tell he’s lying by the way he crosses his arms over his chest defensively, the closed off look on his face. If there wasn’t a wall behind him, Ryan’s pretty sure he’d take a step back. ”You’re drunk though, Ryan.”

Shane reaches out, putting his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, maybe intending to push him away. But when their skin touches, it has that same intensity that it had at Ryan’s desk earlier that day. As if by instinct, Shane’s hand moves further up Ryan’s shoulder, toward his neck. His thumb slides into the space right under Ryan’s adam’s apple. Ryan’s heart beats hard and fast, and he wonders if Shane can feel it there, at the base of his throat. They stand there for a moment, frozen. Then Shane drops his hand.

“I’m really not that drunk.”

Shane raises his eyebrows.

“I’m not,” Ryan insists.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Shane asks. Ryan nods. “To talk,” Shane clarifies, in case Ryan misunderstood the invitation. The subtle rejection – or what feels like rejection – makes Ryan’s cheeks burn.

They leave together, waving goodbye to their friends. Shane leads Ryan with a hand on his lower back. Ryan considers pushing him away – _Mixed signals, Shane_ – but he can’t bring himself to. So Shane isn’t going to have sex with him, but is going to touch him like that until he dies of sexual frustration. Perfect.

-

They Uber home in silence. When they get into Shane’s apartment (the closer of the two), it’s blissfully air conditioned, cutting through the encompassing heat of midsummer LA.

Ryan sits on the couch and Shane disappears into the kitchen, reappearing a moment later with two tall glasses of water. Ryan takes one gratefully, gulping it down. It’s crisp and cold and washes the sugary taste of coke out of his mouth. Shane offers him the second one, and Ryan sips it more slowly. The water clearly does nothing to sober him up, based on what he says next.

“I meant… Maybe I could just suck you off or whatever.”

Shane draws in a sharp breath, and a hectic, blotchy blush blooms all the way down his neck where the top buttons of his shirt are open. It’s so, so lovely, and Ryan thinks that verbal diarrhea is worth it if it makes Shane redden like that. He wonders what Shane’s thinking of, if he’s picturing Ryan on his knees. Like Ryan is.

“I mean, if you’re not interested in that… with me-“

“It’s not that,” Shane cuts him off.

_It’s not that_? It’s not that. Okay. So Shane wants to… Okay. A long pause, while Ryan tries to get his thoughts in order. “Then what is it?”

“I’m just surprised.”

“You’re acting like this is completely out of the blue.”

“Is it not?” Shane asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. Ryan thinks about earlier that day, the way Shane touched his neck, his throat. The intensity last time they did a scene. Shane’s thumb in his mouth, and the salty taste of his skin. The darkness in Shane’s eyes when Ryan calls him _sir._ They’ve been pushing the boundaries of this thing they have. Ryan knows Shane knows it. All Ryan’s doing is saying it out loud.

There’s a long pause in which they just look at each other. Shane seems to be searching his face for something, and Ryan wonders what he’s looking for, and if he’s finding it. Eventually, Shane sighs, looking up at the ceiling like he’s about to admit something. “I thought you were straight.”

Ryan abruptly wishes he was sober, so he could process that better. And because Shane, in this moment, looks vulnerable like Ryan’s never seen, face open and anxious. It hits Ryan like a tonne of bricks: Shane is not straight.

Shane’s eyes dart down to Ryan’s mouth and Ryan wonders if Shane’s drunker than he gave him credit for. He wants to give Shane the response he’s looking for, but he’s not sure what it is and he’s not sure he’s ready to give it. Not to mention that if that’s _not_ what Shane’s looking for, it could ( _would_ ) ruin everything. So instead he says:

“It has nothing to do with that. For me at least. It’s a service thing, I guess.” Ryan wants it to be true but he can’t shake how much it feels like a lie as he says it.

“Right,” says Shane. His expression shutters, all that vulnerability leaving his face in an instant. The guardedness of Shane’s expression makes Ryan uneasy, and he gets the acute sense that he messed something up. “I think I’m going to need some time to think about it.”

“Of course,” says Ryan. His heart jumps – it’s not a yes, but it’s certainly not a no either.

-

Shane finally texts him a week later.

It’s not like they don’t interact in the interceding week. They work together like usual, they have lunch together, and they even go to a movie one night – a horror movie that Ryan loves but Shane complains made him sick to his stomach.

Shane: Do you actually want to do it?

Ryan: Do what

Ryan’s not sure if he’s asking this to be coy or just because he wants Shane to say it. To say he wants it too. Ryan waits what feels like a long time for the response.

Shane: Do you want to make sex a part of this?

Ryan: Do you want to?

He knows he’s being difficult. But he just wants (needs) Shane to say it. To say he wants him.

Shane: Yes. I do.

Ryan: Okay. So do I.

Ryan: Obviously.

Shane: Can I come over?

Ryan: Yeah.

-

“If we’re going to do this, we need to set down some ground rules,” Shane says seriously, tapping his fingers on Ryan’s kitchen table. All business. He has his plastic, clear framed glasses perched on his nose, all nerdy and cute and completely distracting. _Ugh._

“Right,” Ryan nods. “Good idea.”

“Are you seeing other people?” Shane scratches anxiously at the stubble on his jaw. “I mean, are you seeing anyone? Or dating?” He amends. The implication that they’re seeing each other throws Ryan, but the implication that they’re not seeing each other makes him feel a familiar ache of _something_ in his chest.

“I’m not dating,” Ryan says. Shane’s eyebrows twitch, doubt etched on his features. “I’m not,” says Ryan insistently. He looks down at a scratch in the kitchen table, rubbing it with his thumb. “I haven’t seen anyone for a while, actually.”

The truth is, it felt totally wrong to go on casual dates while he and Shane had whatever it is they had between them.

“Are… Are you seeing someone?” He remembers the last time they did a scene, when Shane said he’d just been on a date.

“Not right now,” says Shane. Internally, Ryan breathes a sigh of relief. “But if that changes for either of us, we can address it then. Does that work?”

Ryan nods. Then he takes a deep breath – this is no time to be shy. “If we’re doing this, I think we need to be sexually exclusive. Anything else would be too complicated. That’s… That’s non-negotiable for me.”

It’s a lot to ask, and Ryan’s nervous to hear Shane’s answer. But to his credit, Shane doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he says earnestly, holding Ryan’s gaze steadily. Ryan can’t hold back the smile that spreads across his face, and Shane returns it with a small, private smile of his own. The one that makes Ryan feel like they’re the only two people in the world.

They talk everything out. Their limits, what they want, what they want to try now, what they want to try eventually. Just like anything, it gets easier the more they talk about it, and Ryan eventually finds himself feeling more excited than nervous. Until:

“What about kissing?” asks Shane, in that same businesslike tone he’s been using this whole time.

Ryan clams up. “I honestly hadn’t thought about that,” he chokes out. He suddenly feels hot all over. _You just confidently told Shane you’d be okay with him fucking you, but you can’t handle this? Jesus._

“Oh. If that’s not…” Shane trails off uncertainly. That vulnerable look is back on his face, and it does things to Ryan. It really does.

“No,” Ryan says. “No, we can kiss. Sure. Yes.”

“Are you sure?” The question has weight. Like Shane is trying to pack multiple questions into one. Ryan is trying desperately not to let himself look at Shane’s mouth.

“Yes,” Ryan says, nodding. Then, more quietly, “I want to.” It feels one hundred times more intimate than anything else they’ve talked about.

Eventually, Shane leaves. Ryan takes a cold shower.

-

Ryan can’t wait any longer.

It’s been a day since they talked. Over two weeks since they were last together.

It’s a work day, and the time is crawling by, every five minutes feeling five times that at least. Ryan can’t focus for shit. Shane’s working on Ruining History, talking to some interns across the office about scripting and editing and researching, explaining everything patiently. Ryan can tell he’s doing the whole goofy, charming Shane bit – accents, voices, obscure cultural references, obnoxious puns - that everyone loves him for. That _Ryan_ loves him for.

By the time Shane returns to their work area, Ryan is desperate to ask him.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” Ryan asks, barely glancing away from his computer in an effort at indifference (he knows his voice gives him away, though, and he practically cringes at the desperation colouring his words).

When he looks up, he realizes his mistake. Shane isn’t alone.

Shane looks momentarily taken off guard, but it’s quickly replaced by that easy smile of his. “Sure. Netflix?” He says casually, sitting down in his desk chair and pulling the one at the unoccupied desk next to him over for Sara. He wonders if Sara clocked the needy tone of his voice, could tell how much he wanted Shane to say yes.

“Netflix and chill?” Sara asks, eyebrow cocked, mischievous smile playing on her lips. Ryan lets out a nervous laugh. Apparently, she did notice. He’s already been keyed up and antsy all day, and now he’s on the brink of coming completely undone.

Shane swallows, the slightest nervous bob of his throat. “Sure, yeah,” he says quietly. He’s responding to Sara, but his eyes don’t leave Ryan for a second. Suddenly, Shane’s hand is on his leg above his knee, squeezing, thumb rubbing along Ryan’s inseam comfortingly. Ryan’s breath hitches at the tender intimacy of it. It’s how… It’s how Shane would touch him if they were boyfriends, Ryan thinks. But here he is, doing it right now. The touch grounds him, and he sinks a little into his chair. The hand is gone as suddenly as it came.

Did Sara notice? He risks a glance, but Sara is showing Shane something on the editing program they use, leaning in close to the computer. Then, she catches his eye and winks. Ryan turns back to his computer, caught between mortification and the warmth pooling in his belly, turning his limbs to jelly. Because he kind of likes Sara knowing. He kind of really likes it.

-

Shane comes over that night. The first thing Ryan notices is his pants – they’re ridiculously short, showing off like, two inches of Shane’s bony ankles.

“Oh my God,” Ryan laughs. He can’t help himself. “Your pants are so short.”

Shane looks down, as if he’d completely forgotten what pants he was wearing. “I’ll have you know, Ryan, that these are very much in vogue.”

“They’re seriously like. Flood pants. Or capris. Maybe that’s just what normal pants are like on you, though. Are most of your pants custom made?”

“Is this usually how you seduce a guy, Ryan? Merciless cruelty?”

“Do I need to seduce you?”

“No,” Shane admits, self-deprecation plain on his face. “Not at all.”

He takes a few steps into Ryan’s apartment, pulling his wallet and keys out of his pockets and dropping them on the table by Ryan’s door.

“Well, should we start?” Shane asks expectantly.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I do,” Shane says, “I always have a plan.”

“No you don’t,” Ryan laughs, going for levity.

Shane raises an eyebrow. “I always do when it comes to this.” Another step toward Ryan, and they’re practically touching now. Ryan has to look up at Shane’s face. “Do you want me to tell it to you?”

Ryan swallows. “Not really.”

“Okay,” Shane nods. “What’s your safe word?”

“Red.”

“Good,” says Shane approvingly, and just that sends a sharp thrill through Ryan. “And if you can’t speak?”

Ryan’s head spins with all the reasons he might not be able to speak. “I just tap you twice.”

“Good.”

Shane takes another step forward, crowding into Ryan’s space. For a moment, Ryan is sure that they’re finally going to kiss, their lips so close they’re practically brushing. But then, Shane threads a hand through Ryan’s hair and pulls hard. Hard enough that Ryan lets out a surprised moan. He can feel himself spiraling down, down, down, to that place where he doesn’t have to think about anything, just has to respond.

“You like when I hurt you?” Shane asks.

“Yes, sir.” The _sir_ does something for Shane, like Ryan knew it would.

“Do you want to suck me off?” asks Shane, and Ryan nods, pulling against Shane’s hand in his hair. The slap to his face comes suddenly, sharp and hot, loud in Ryan’s ears. It’s not particularly forceful, but the sting shocks him. Shane’s never hit him before. “Use your words, Ry.”

Ryan’s hard, so fucking hard, in his jeans, and he can feel that Shane is, too, where they’re pressed together. He reaches up and touches his own jaw wonderingly, feeling the heat blooming in his cheek. “I… Yes, I want to.”

“Hmmm,” Shane hums, pensive. He reaches up and grabs Ryan’s face, digging a thumb into the side of his jaw, hard enough to bruise. Ryan hopes it does. “I think you can be more convincing than that.”

Ryan drops to his knees. He barely registers the jarring impact when he hits the floor. Everything is hot and blurry and his focus is narrowed to Shane alone, his tall, solid presence crowding out everything else. “Please. Shane, please let me suck your cock.” He lets his head rest on Shane’s thigh, nosing along his inseam, just shy of his cock. It’s humiliating to beg, but in the sweet way that just takes him further under.

“Christ,” Shane breathes, and Ryan can tell Shane hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He hides a small, satisfied smile against Shane’s leg.

He looks up at Shane through his eyelashes. “Please, sir. I want you in my mouth, I want to get you off. I’ll be so good for you. Please let me,” he begs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if he’s going to be embarrassed about this tomorrow.

Shane reaches out and tips Ryan’s head up, fingers under his chin, and strokes his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb gently. The gentleness is almost as intoxicating as the roughness, and Ryan’s head spins dizzily. “You’re always good for me,” Shane says softly, his gaze intense. Ryan groans, and captures Shane’s thumb in his mouth, sucking and running his tongue along the bony ridges of his knuckles. Shane’s breathing heavily now, eyes all dark and heavy lidded. Ryan can tell he’s going to give in.

“Please, Shane.”

“Okay, baby. Yeah.” _Shane, sir, Ryan, baby,_ everything’s getting muddled up and confused and Ryan can’t bring himself to care at all as Shane undoes his stupid short pants and pulls down his underwear, revealing his hard cock.

Shane lets Ryan take it at his own pace, hand only a light pressure on the back of his head. Ryan’s done this before, but not for a while, so he goes slow, inch by inch until Shane is nearly all the way in his mouth. When Ryan looks up, Shane’s looking down at him reverently, and the look in his eyes makes Ryan’s heart knock around in his chest like it’s going through a tumble dryer.

“I think you can take more,” Shane murmurs. “Tap my leg if it’s too much.” Then Shane puts his hand on the back of Ryan’s head, guiding him in closer until Ryan gags. Shane lets out a little bitten off moan, and Ryan thinks he’ll gag as many times as Shane wants as long as he keeps making those noises. Shane fucks his mouth, deep and slow until Ryan can feel tears slipping over his cheeks.

“You love being used like this, don’t you?” says Shane. Ryan can only manage a muffled moan in response. But it’s true, he does love it. To not have to think or make choices, just respond, just do whatever Shane says, take whatever Shane gives him. Letting his attention narrow to the weight and heat of Shane in his mouth, or the steadying pressure of his hand on the back of his head. It all makes him feel drowsy and sated, even though he’s rock hard and leaking a wet patch through his underwear and onto the front of his jeans.

Suddenly, with a low, drawn out _fuuuuck,_ Shane comes in Ryan’s mouth. Ryan swallows on instinct, choking only a little with the effort. In an instant, Shane is tucking himself back into his pants and dropping to his knees before Ryan.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, “I should have warned you, but that came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, it really _came_ out of nowhere,” Ryan grins. His voice comes out terribly hoarse, and he can only imagine how wrecked he looks right now. Shane laughs, and his cheeks are flushed pink from his orgasm, and his eyes are bright, and Ryan is so, so in love, and then Shane is kissing him, all soft and messy, licking the taste of himself from Ryan’s mouth.

They’re so close that it’s nothing for Ryan to shift forward into Shane’s lap and straddle one of his thighs. _Finally,_ friction, and he moans into Shane’s mouth, the sound desperate and keening. “God, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” Shane whispers against his mouth, stilling Ryan’s movements with his hands on his hips. “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”

“No, sir, I’m not, I-“

“Take your shirt off,” Shane interrupts, voice harsh, and Ryan obeys instantaneously. Shane runs his hands over the planes of Ryan’s chest, stopping to pinch one of Ryan’s nipples, which earns him a sharp intake of breath. “You’re gorgeous,” says Shane lowly, but it sounds less like a compliment and more like a warning. “And you’re all mine.”

Ryan gasps, fighting the urge to thrust his hips. The idea of being _Shane’s_ makes him blind with arousal. “Isn’t that so?” Ryan can only nod in response. He doesn’t remember how to make words. He wonders, distantly, if he’s going to come before Shane has even touched him. Shane’s hand comes up and wraps around his throat, squeezing gently. “I should get you a collar. Then everyone will know who you belong to.”

Shane leans in and kisses him again, but this time it’s not gentle but harsh and unyielding, Shane completely in control, keeping him still with the hand on his throat. He needs Shane to touch him right now, to touch him yesterday, a year ago. He’d be fine if Shane never touched him, kept him on the edge like this for hours, for days.

“I could make you wear it into the office. Do you think anyone would be surprised? To find out you’re mine?” Shane says, letting his short fingernails dig in to the side of Ryan’s throat. “I don’t think they would be.”

The thought of it has Ryan squeezing his eyes shut, humiliated and turned on in equal measure. The second slap comes as suddenly as the first did, but this one is harder, and Ryan’s head turns with the impact. His eyes well up involuntarily, and Shane wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “Look at me,” says Shane, his soft tone belying the fiery sting of Ryan’s face. “Do you want to get off?”

“Yeah, I need it Shane, please,” he pleads.

“Okay. Rub yourself off, then.” Ryan reaches for the button of his pants, and Shane grabs his wrists in one of his hands, his grip a vice. He shakes his head. “No, baby. Against my leg.”

Ryan barely hesitates before acquiescing, rubbing against Shane’s thigh. Shane pulls him forward, letting Ryan rest his forehead where Shane’s shoulder meets his neck. “Shush, you’re okay,” Shane whispers, and Ryan realizes he’s moaning loudly, saying Shane’s name, cursing. He attempts to muffle his noises against Shane’s shoulder as Shane rubs his back, and Shane’s big, warm hands are doing almost as much for him as the friction on his cock. It’s not long before Ryan is coming in his pants with a bitten off groan.

It’s all a blur after that: Shane helping him stand, stripping his clothes off, cleaning him up. He supposes he should be embarrassed, but right now he’s just incredibly blissed out. Shane gets him into bed, and he thinks his bed has never been more comfortable or soft.

Shane turns away, and Ryan grabs his hand. He looks back, brow furrowed. “Will you stay?”

Shane smiles a little, open and sweet. “Of course,” he says. Then he leans down and, after a brief second of hesitation, kisses Ryan on the lips. “I’m just gonna change, okay?”

Shane stays.

**Author's Note:**

> comments make my day :)  
> thanks for reading!!


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